As I turn around in a circle, there is nothing but sea and sky in varying shades of blue. No buildings, no cars, no people (except for the three of us). The planes overhead look like stars at night, they’re so high up. And I certainly can’t hear them. This is my world, for the time being
We are in 19,000 feet of water. That’s over 3 miles of depth under our keel. They say that space is mostly empty. I think the sea is that way too. We’ve seen no dolphins or whales yet, just small flying fish skirting the waves.
Except for the sound of the wind and the waves, it is eerily quiet on our deck. Of course, Sirius makes noise groaning, straining under the wind and we can definitely hear the engine when she’s turned on. But there are no birds cawing as they fly overhead. There are no bugs buzzing in my ears, no dogs barking—none of that ambient noise that follows us around from place to place. It’s as if the world doesn’t exist. Jeff and I look to the horizon, believing we see land. But they’re only moveable mountains made up of large swells that disappear from sight entirely, as they get absorbed back into the sea.
There’s very little ship traffic out here as well. We are all alone. But I don’t mind the solitude. In fact, I find it comforting. I look to the right in the middle of the day and see a trail of stars, glistening and sparkling just like the stars at night as the sun reflects the texture of the water. It mirrors the Milky Way. There’s an odd symmetry to this light showcase.
Sirius gently climbs the large swells and effortlessly glides down the backside as if she’s trying to tame this breathing, mighty beast. There is a rhythm to our days. I’m on watch when the sun comes up and we all gather to watch the sun set in the evenings. We ponder the moon, a sharply white crescent suspended on an invisible chain. We eat breakfast, lunch and dinner, but not at appointed times. We all take naps during the day. We marvel at the clouds and discuss whether a squall, many miles away, will reach us. We read, spend long hours just watching sea and do some boat chores, but not too many.
In the first few days, I hated being on Sirius, but I attribute that to my seasickness. After that, I only get slightly annoyed that I live on a slant. But in the cockpit, as I write this, I’m so grateful for this opportunity to experience this journey. Now if I could only see some dolphins!